Barren branches reach toward the steel-gray sky,
the air whistles through them as they sway;
Touching each other with a crackling sound,
as moaning calls of winter birds obey.

With each move their tender limbs try,
to hold themselves up with honor;
Yet as gusts snap twigs to solid ground,
this scene appears to us in horror.

Why now is Nature so bold and brave,
while January's resting and nesting starts ?
Its darkness looms with grave concerns,
for every lonesome and solitary heart.

And the whirling frost will paint its pictures,
along the windowsills each night;
The once fiery hearth seems weary and weak,
as the numbing cold begins to bite.

It was quite different when we lived down South,
which seems like years ago;
But now we stumble over icy hills,
and plow through fields of snow.

While the holidays pass with mirth and cheer,
our souls become unsettled;
Knowing that God has future plans,
that would surely test our mettle.

The strong survive the wicked winds,
the remaining folks just fade away;
Yet when we hold each others' hands,
our misery blows far astray.

Remember the elders on the farm,
telling stories of a reckless season;
Their wit and wisdom brightened our world,
for them--life's challenges had their reasons.

Huddled together in woolen shawls,
with my loving family close at hand;
I pray to the Lord that we all survive,
this bleak and brittle land.